


Open Book

by JaneAire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drinking, First Date, Gladio's potty mouth, Gladnis, M/M, Mentions of Mel Gibson movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: Teenage Gladnis | Gladio asks Ignis over to watch a shitty movie and drink some shitty beers. Gladio isn't good with the whole friend thing, which is okay, because Ignis isn't good with the whole being a decent person thing. They're kinda perfect for each other.Previously posted to my tumblr.





	Open Book

Ignis isn’t under any pretenses. To say he ended up in this position under a stroke of fate–lucky or otherwise–isn’t a fantasy he’s allowed himself to indulge in.

He’s seen the signs–he’d be foolish not to. He can’t decide, however, as he watches the shadow of Gladio’s eyelashes flutter against the apples of his cheeks from where the blue television light bleaches the black strands neon colors, how his friend was able to see this coming, what decisions he’d made to get them to this point. Surely he wasn’t so transparent that someone so–well, he wasn’t sure exactly what kind of boy Gladiolus was, but he shouldn’t have been able to see through the walls Ignis had thrown up time and time again. 

He’s not watching the movie–neither of them are, if he’s being honest with himself, but he’s never much cared for Mel Gibson to begin with. The high capacity of blood, bombs, and bare breasts on the television definitely should’ve been keeping Gladio’s attention, except it wasn’t. Every stolen glance Ignis risked–why it was a risk, he wasn’t so sure–Gladio was forward facing, back erect, and his eyes closed and fluttering slightly where his eye twitched behind the thin lids, as if he were having a nightmare. 

Ignis thought perhaps it was a good time to excuse himself. He’d been here just over half and hour, but Gladio seemed not at all like himself. Practically ill. 

A few weeks ago, Ignis would’ve said something. Asked him if he felt alright. Volunteered to do something. He might have shifted in his seat, at the very least, and cleared his throat. Something to bring Gladio back. 

Ignis was afraid. 

If he was being entirely candid with himself, and he strove to be, always, he should admit that Gladio’s hand lazily resting against his knee made him afraid. He couldn’t remember how it had come to be there–he had just suddenly realized it had lingered, and then altogether unmoving. 

It might’ve been sheer convenience or comfort. Ignis had sat with his back to the armrest, his sock-clad feet shoved under the cushion containing his friend. That was Ignis’ first mistake, he decided, in pointing his entire body toward Gladio. He wasn’t an idiot, and Gladio wasn’t an idiot, and body language was something Ignis paid great attention to, and he’d failed to notice something so embarrassing about his own posture. 

He couldn’t help it. It was so easy to be someone else with Gladio, the lesser version of himself. Shedding the Ignis that was more real, more solid left Ignis raw and stupid and vulnerable. 

That had been the first mistake. 

So here he was, pinned, simply because Gladio had let his wrist dangle across his knees, his forearm pressing lightly into his calf. The warmth was searing. 

It shouldn’t have been. Ignis felt foolish.   
He should move. He should check on Noctis and Prompto, although, he thought bitterly, they’d most likely be too preoccupied to answer his call. 

Gladio’s hand flexed impulsively. 

Ignis was terrified he’d move it. 

Gladio’s eyelids fluttered, the dark lashes flashing from pink to turquoise to gold. 

Ignis should go. 

His mind was running wild, stretching back to search for whatever mistake he’d made between Gladio’s “you should come over tonight” as Ignis handed him a can of ebony this morning to this moment, to the moment Gladio seemed offput by him. Training had gone as it always had, school had gone without problem. Ignis had taken careful preparation before coming over–showering and changing again. Surely that hadn’t bothered him, he himself had changed, and his hair was styled neatly on top of his head. 

Surely it wasn’t their close proximity or Ignis’ choice to sit directly facing him–Gladio’s relax arm was proof that wasn’t the problem.   
Still, the boy was stiff in his seat, eyes closed delicately, refusing to watch the very movie he had argued for. 

Gladio shifted slightly, leaning forward to the coffee table in the dark of the room, and Ignis felt his stomach jolt. He took the moment to shift, pulling his phone from his pocket and throwing it into his lap, readjusting so that he was comfortable, and settled down again. 

Gladio, despite the lean, never retracted his arm from Ignis’ knees, instead held fast to one with a cupped hand, as if to anchor himself to the space. He pulled the single beer he’d snagged from the table, taking a shallow swig as he reclined into the sofa. Ignis watched it all closely. 

“Wanna?” Gladio said gruffly, holding the neck of the bottle out in invitation.   
Gladio wasn’t looking at him. 

“You aren’t watching the movie,” he accused immediately. Ignis had given himself an ultimatum–Gladio could answer, or Ignis could go home. 

Gladio blinked, staring, as if not understanding his question. Ignis repeated, slowly, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“Well?” 

“Wasn’t a question, was it?” 

“What’s bothering you?” Ignis demanded, leaning forward so that his chest pressed against his knees, startlingly aware of the fact Gladio’s hand was mere inches from his face. 

It had never been this vibrant before–alive and throbbing and warm, all at once challenging and new while still remaining safe. Ignis always felt safe around Gladio. 

He was terrified that was changing. 

Gladio glowered, ducking his chin to his chest to avoid being observed by the advisor–it still surprised Gladio, no matter how frequent, Ignis, despite his age, could see through anyone in a matter of seconds. Just a kid and he’d already proved himself to be the most valuable player in the prince’s retinue. It almost made him feel inadequate, to an extent, if not unnecessary. 

Befriending Ignis was in his best interest, he knew, and he didn’t regret it, not for a second. Noctis himself was nearly impossible to crack, but Ignis trusted those who he believed could be trusted. 

The two of them would be spending nearly their entire lives together, side by side at the back of the King. The friendship they’d developed gave it a little more dignity, a way to pretend they had a say in how their lives would turn out. 

“Just thinkin’,” Gladio deflected, giving Ignis the best smile he could, before turning his attention again to the screen. 

Ignis sighed. “So that’s what it looks like.” It was teasing, Gladio knew, yet it still made him feel juvenile–it was something he would say to Noct to appease him and ease the tension. 

Gladiolus was not a child, and he certainly was not something that needed to be looked after or soothed. He bit his lip, glaring at his hand slung across the younger boy’s knees, gripping Ignis’ kneecap as if terrified he’d run.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Gladio suddenly blurted out, embarrassingly high pitched and uncertain, and it took Ignis a moment to sort out the words. His forest eyes settled over Gladio in an even stare that was unnervingly calm to the larger man–weren’t teenagers supposed to be anxious, self conscious, unsure? It made Gladio’s blood run a little cold–he wasn’t sure if he should feel sorry his companion or be a little scared of him. A little of both, just maybe. 

“What should bother me, Gladio?” Ignis sighed in a voice that was partway exasperated, leaning away from his knees, and Gladio felt the heat get leached from his wrist where it had been ghosting near his friend’s neck. Gladio frowned. 

“This,” Gladio grumbled excitedly, staring openly at the boy now. “This situation they forced you into. The fact you have no say. The fact that every day you’re forced to look after that brat like you’re his mom and not a kid–” 

“ _‘That brat’_ is your prince and future king, so I suggest you–” 

“You don’t have to defend him! He’s not here!” Gladio cried, fisting one hand into his hair, ruining the look he’d spent nearly twelve minutes on before Ignis had arrived. 

Ignis was frowning, tawny brows furrowed over blazing forest eyes. His mouth was pursed, as if holding it in, wanting to blast something at the shield to get him back for his outburst. Still, he didn’t move from his slouch, or pull his knees away, and Gladio counted it as half a win. At least there was some sort of emotion behind his eyes–he wasn’t used to seeing it, especially such poorly concealed anger. 

“Your candor is alarming, Gladio.” He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. Gladio watched it all, attempting to memorize the lines of the boy’s face, the way it wrinkled in the emotion that Gladio couldn’t quite name, but he cataloged it in his mind nonetheless for future situations. “Take care in the future to remember who you are speaking to. Surely your father wouldn’t be pleased to hear you say such a thing.” 

Gladio visibly flinched, and in an instant his hand was replaced in his lap as if it hadn’t spent the better part of an hour attempting to act nonchalant where it lazed across Ignis.   
Ignis almost felt bad for saying it, but surely Gladio wasn’t so stupid. If Ignis were a different man, a different kind of person, he could’ve reported the comment to Noct, and if not to his highness then at least to King Regis–he didn’t suspect either of removing Gladio of his position for such a remark, but nevertheless, Iris seemed as if she might the be the sort of girl who was always waiting in the wings. 

“Why should it bother me?” Ignis said in a voice that Gladio found barely contained formality. He dropped his knees to the floor, leaning forward, hair cutting across his eyes in a way that eclipsed him from Gladio’s view. Unreadable, it wasn’t fair that Ignis got to read everyone like a novel and no one could ever get the chance to glimpse back. He was a two way mirror, the kind you had to press against the glass to see what was false and what was true. “It doesn’t bother you.” 

“I’m an Amicitia,” Gladio said immediately, and Ignis watched with careful eyes the way he unconsciously straightened his spine and arched out his chest, the way his jaw clenched tight and his eyes suddenly burned with something Ignis decided he’d never be able to comprehend, let alone name. 

“And that means you don’t deserve a choice either?” Ignis said, his voice almost amused. “By that reasoning, it doesn’t sound like you consider yourself much of a person.” 

_You’re being a dick,_ Gladio wanted to scream, feeling his veins ignite with the same sort of fire he felt right before a fight. Still, Ignis wasn’t much of a fighter yet, and Gladio knew it would be a waste of time and the mess to clean up wouldn’t be worth it–even if one shot would wipe that smug grin off the boy’s pink lips. 

“All I’m tryin’ to say,” Gladio said in a strained voice, “is that–shit, don’t you ever wonder? You’re fuckin’ sixteen. You’re supposed to be–I dunno, buying shitty beer from an upper classman and trying to steal panties. You’re not supposed to be playing house with some kid.” 

When Gladio chanced a look up at Ignis, he wished he hadn’t said it. He wished he hadn’t started the whole thing, hadn’t asked Ignis over. He wished someone else would train this fucking kid in the first place. Surely this wasn’t his job. 

Ignis was still, smirk gone, eyes cold, hands limp in his lap, shoulders hunched. To anyone else, it would’ve been Ignis, unreadable as ever. 

To Gladio, awestruck and horrified, he realized he’d picked up on something. This wasn’t the cool facade he projected–this was something else entirely. A cold apathy, mourning for something that never existed, a reality out of reach. 

“I think about it,” Gladio said softly, scratching almost violently at his wrist. “Not a lot or anything. But enough. I mean–not about you being a kid, I meant myself–” 

“You spend your day,” Ignis began, slowly rising from his slouch, staring ahead at the tv where Mel Gibson was hacking into a corpse with a tomahawk, making even Gladio flinch. “Training. Everyday. You wake up, and everyday of your life you prepare yourself to _die_ for that boy, and you have the nerve to tell me I should mourn because I’m responsible for his wellbeing and _happiness_?” 

It was silent, except for the soft buzz of the television set and the instrumental piece playing from the film, and Gladio felt something break. 

Because, after all, it had to be true. Gladio’s purpose wasn’t to simply protect Noctis–it meant dying for him too. He’d be replaced instantly. Disposable. Dispensable. Useless. Worthless. 

Not Ignis. Ignis would always be needed–and he couldn’t be replaced, not really, not in a way Noctis would want. Ignis was the closest thing Noctis had to a mother, in a twisted sort of way, and Ignis had been raised to be a perfect political machine.

Gladio was a weapon, a wall of flesh meant to simply stand in harm’s way. He, and an army of thousands. 

And yet. 

“You aren’t responsible for his happiness,” Gladio muttered softly. “I’m not sure who told you that, but it’s not true. He’s just a kid, Ignis. He’s not strong like you–” 

“What are you trying to get at?” Ignis hissed. “Is that why you asked me over here? You can have a pity party for one next time.” 

“Stop being a dick.” Gladio reached out, taking Ignis’ knee again, using it as leverage to lean forward, and Ignis’ snarl morphed into a mask of quick panic and shock, his mouth falling open as he came face to face with the shield. 

The thing about being a human weapon, Gladio decided, meant that you had nothing to lose. “I just–I just meant it isn’t fair. You wouldn’t have agreed to come over here if you had a choice. We’re stuck together for the rest of our lives, and you should have real friends. But you just get me. I’m sorry.” 

Ignis was slack-jawed, staring openly at Gladio, only vaguely aware of the fact he’d braced himself on the shield’s bicep, eyes wide, and for a moment, Gladio didn’t feel as if he were being analyzed. 

Then, he laughed. 

He’d never seen it before, and Gladio watched in awe as Ignis tilted his head back, his shoulders and chest shaking with the effort, hair flipped and adams apple dipping beneath the skin as he _laughed_. It wasn’t a polite chuckle over his cup of ebony, and it wasn’t a triumphant shout when he landed a blow on Gladio during training–he was laughing. 

“You attempted to pick a fight, all because you were worried I didn’t actually _like_ you?” Ignis cried, placing his glasses to the side to scrub at his eyes with his the pads of his thumbs, his his little wrists catching Gladio’s eye in an out of body way. “Noctis was right, you are secretly longing for affection.”

“Shut up!” Gladio screeched, leaning away, pushing lightly at Ignis’ chest to get him out of his vicinity, but the smaller boy just fell back against the arm of the chair, curling into himself and dissolving into another fit of laughter. “Well, for a guy who pretends to be so polite, you’re a real asshole.” 

“Indeed,” Ignis snorted, and Gladio saw that in his physical fit, he’d messed up his usually soft hair so that it stuck up in the front. He was flushed, as if he’d just ran much too far, and his eyes were watering. For a moment, Gladio felt like he was actually looking at a sixteen year old, instead of Ignis. The Ignis he should’ve been, the Ignis he deserved to be. “Gladio, if I didn’t want to come over, I would’ve politely declined. I wouldn’t have come, and I certainly wouldn’t have been so candid as to fight with you. Nevertheless, you needed a talking to.” 

“Oh,” Gladio said, chewing the inside of his cheek and folding his arms across his chest. “Okay.”

“Gladio?” Ignis asked, remaining silent until Gladio met his gaze. Gladio found him annoyingly amused, his lips twisted into a crooked yet pleased smile. “We’re friends.” 

“Oh,” he reiterated, attempting to relax a little, before just attempting to watch the movie. “Okay.” 

Ignis just smiled leaning back into the couch cushion, before reaching out for the single bottle of beer and taking a swig, before holding it out to Gladio. “Want some?” 

Gladio grinned. “Course.”


End file.
